


Public Indecency

by ohmarqueliot



Series: Sex Magic [3]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, phantom blow jobs, phantom rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 21:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16416296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmarqueliot/pseuds/ohmarqueliot
Summary: It was equal parts boredom, mischief, and a need for attention that made the idea occur to him, but before the last syllable of the spell left his lips and he focused it in Eliot’s direction, he felt a thrill of anticipation flow through him as he waited for his reaction.---The Physical Kids throw a party and Eliot decides to play bartender for the night, which is fine until Quentin decides that he'd rather his attention be focused on him. Sequel to Magical.





	Public Indecency

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of focusing on all of the other things I should be working on, I decided to write this instead. You don't have to read Magical to follow, but if you're reading magic smut part 2 why not read part 1 as well?

 

Keeping his eyes on Eliot, Quentin sipped on his drink, letting the flavours sit on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed it. He could taste citrus, pineapple, and some kind of berry in a pleasant combination around the vodka. Like everything Eliot made, it tasted incredible.

Lowering the glass, he grimaced at it faintly before raising his eyes to meet Eliot’s again. “It’s all right,” he said reluctantly, lifting one shoulder in a little half shrug.

Impatiently, Eliot poured the small amount of liquid that hadn’t filled Quentin’s martini glass into a glass of his own and drank it all in one go. Scoffing, he screwed his face up in incredulity because obviously it was amazing. “ _You’re_ all right.” His tone made it clear that it was supposed to be an insult, but his eyes were warm with amusement, and Quentin quickly let go of the charade of indifference.

“Okay, it’s really fucking good,” he said, and was rewarded by the way Eliot’s demeanour completely changed with the praise before it was quickly hidden by the carefree attitude that he liked the exude to the world. Quentin had caught it though – he was one of the few people who had seen Eliot’s unguarded enjoyment before, and even after he’d reined it back under the public view of the people nearby he could still see it in the lift in his shoulders, the tiniest upturn of his lip despite his otherwise blasé expression, the unmistakable light in his eyes.

As much as he enjoyed stirring Eliot up by throwing apathy at his carefully constructed effortlessness, doing any small thing to make him swell with _pride_ was worth ten times more.

Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the bar that Eliot had set up for the night, Quentin traced his finger around the edge of his glass in what he hoped was a seductive manner. “Are you really going to give all of your attention to all of these randoms for the night?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the crowd growing around the bar, waiting for him to move on so they could have their turn.

“Of course he is,” Margo said, sidling up next to him and slipping an arm through his. Smirking up at him, she rolled her eyes at Eliot. “When other people throw a party they just supply a fuckton of booze and drugs and call it a day but no, _Eliot_ needs to take it to the next level instead of just enjoying the party.”

Eliot was hardly the first person one could accuse of not enjoying a party, and that was exactly why he’d volunteered as bartender for the night. The fact that the Physical Kids were throwing a party was a regular occurrence, but this time Eliot had announced that he wasn’t just making a signature drink for the house, or for the party, but for every person who came through the door. For anyone else, Quentin would have said that it was a step too far, but he hadn’t met anyone before who was so well versed and who just enjoyed alcohol as much as Eliot did, so he didn’t bother trying to dissuade him from the idea.

If he got as much enjoyment over making sure everyone was drunk on something they enjoyed as he did out of enjoying the actual party, then good for him.

The thing was, Quentin wasn’t in the mood for letting other people enjoy his boyfriend’s efforts as much as he did. Sharing with Margo was different – after blowing a kiss at her, he’d ignored her requests and made her a cocktail that he knew would be exactly what she hadn’t known she’d wanted, and he happily engrossed himself in watching Eliot’s sure hands twirling the neck of this bottle between his fingers, his forearms tensing as he handled a cocktail shaker, his smug look as he finished the pour and slid the glass across the bar until it sat before Margo. All of that was fine, and he really was happy for Eliot to spend his night showing off in front of half the campus if that’s what he really wanted… but he’d much rather that focus be spent on _him,_ instead.

Draining his own drink far too quickly, he pushed the empty glass forward, blatantly ignoring the people who stood behind him. Eliot’s smile was all too knowing but he just met his gaze evenly, unconcerned. The others could fucking wait.

His second drink in tow and the feel of Eliot’s lips lingering against his – he had felt a blend of nervousness at the PDA and smugness that he was the one who got to kiss the hot bartender when Eliot had grabbed the neck of his shirt and jerked him forward to kiss him thoroughly before sending him on his way – he followed Margo over to a group of second years that he only kind of peripherally knew. From the fact that he hadn’t heard her talk about them before and she got two of their names wrong, he got the impression that she hardly knew them better than he did despite the fact that they were in her year, but it quickly became obvious that she knew one of them well, or at least intended to. Margo was hardly the most subtle flirter, and the group quickly dissolved into two parties: Margo and some woman whose name he hadn’t caught formed one as they huddled close, their conversation growing quieter as their bodies turned further in towards each other, and everyone else.

Or, three parties. Quentin didn’t really care about everyone else. He didn’t resent the fact that Margo had found someone to occupy her attention for the night, but he didn’t really relish the idea of that causing him to have to make small talk with a bunch of people who he didn’t give a shit about. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes poured over the crowded common room for people who he could be bothered approaching. Julia stood by the fire place, crowded on either side by Kady and Penny. Josh was packing a bong for an eagerly waiting Todd while Alice sat nearby, questioning Josh on something he couldn’t hear through the music and general noise of the party.

He could have tagged himself onto either of those groups, he knew, but he craved the one thing that had been denied him for the night – Eliot’s attention. Glancing across at the bar despite himself, he found a small amount of comfort at catching Eliot’s eyes on him for the barest second before he turned his eyes to the next person at the bar.

God, he’d become the person who couldn’t be happy at a party without being at their partner’s side. _What a surprise._ Well, he couldn’t help it that his partner was the most interesting person in the room, and that his other options were already preoccupied.

His citrus/berry/whatever it was martini in hand, he spied a free spot on the couch and settled himself in, realising completely on accident afterwards that it had a perfect view of the bar. Two other people filled the couch, but their bodies were turned away from, facing a handful of other people who sat on a variety of ottomans and the floor and leaving Quentin basically in solitude.

Which was fine, because it meant that he had complete concentration as he focused the spell in his mind and muttered the words under his breath.

It was equal parts boredom, mischief, and a need for attention that made the idea occur to him, but before the last syllable of the spell left his lips and he focused it in Eliot’s direction, he felt a thrill of anticipation flow through him as he waited for his reaction.

They’d used the spell a handful of times since Eliot had first shown it to him, but it had been a few weeks since either of them had cast it, and Quentin had felt no small satisfaction that their chemistry was such that magical advantages became a sometimes novelty instead of a necessary staple. But his teachers had always told him that practice makes perfect, and what better way to make sure he didn’t lose his technique than by practicing spells in different circumstances?

The middle of a crowded party, with Eliot as a particular facet of attention, was definitely a different circumstance than the privacy of their bedroom.

Who was he kidding? He could care less about circumstances and perfecting a spell that already worked more wonderfully than they could hope for. More than anything, Quentin just really wanted to see Eliot squirm.

He wanted to see him _wrecked._

The beauty of the spell was that once it was cast, it didn’t take anything more than intent to make it act however the caster desired. Deciding to take it slow, Quentin honed the magic into an invisible tongue and traced the tip of it lightly up the side of Eliot’s neck.

Eliot’s hand slapped quickly against the exact spot that he’d targeted, then glanced over his shoulder as though expecting to see someone standing behind him. After a moment he continued mixing his current cocktail, free-pouring rum into a glass, and Quentin waited until he was sliding his concoction across the bar before he repeated the action a little more firmly, licking a line up along his skin before pulling his earlobe between phantom teeth. Eliot’s fingers pushed the glass a little too hard and the yellow liquid spilled over the lip of the glass. His expression was carefully blank until Quentin started to kiss his way along his jaw and then his whole face seemed to twitch, his head tilting into the touch for a moment before his throat moved as he swallowed hard. Taking a napkin, he wiped up the spill and made a flourish over the drink as though covering the mishap with dramatics.

 _Oh, so he was going to try and ignore him._ There was no way that he wouldn’t know exactly what was happening, but he didn’t even spare him a glance. Quentin worked his way back down Eliot’s throat, licking along the line of his collarbone, kissing his way down his chest until he closed his mouth over his nipple. Eliot’s back arched into the touch, his eyes sliding closed for just a moment, and when he opened them it was to stare right at Quentin. He raised his eyebrows high and Quentin lifted his glass in return, trying to look casual instead of utterly gleeful. Unable to keep from smiling entirely, he took a sip from his drink to hide it.

Eliot probably saw straight through him but he didn’t really care, not when he could make his whole body stiffen by flicking the tongue quickly and repeatedly over his nipple. His eyes were alight, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk, and when he deliberately turned back to his next patron Quentin took it as the clear challenge that it was.

He’d hoped to distract Eliot with the thought of sex and coax him away from the bar early, but the idea of working him up from across the room while he tried not to react to what was happening to him sounded like a pretty damned good alternative. And if that was the case… He’d intended to go straight for it, but if Eliot intended to play the long game then he could, too. Moving his attention to his other nipple, he licked and kissed and sucked at it as he watched Eliot work for a minute before he sent hot, wet kisses across his chest and down his side, lightening the touch when he neared the sensitive skin above his hip. He wasn’t reacting too obviously, not so as anyone else would notice, and Quentin wondered just how long that would last for.

How far could he push him before he’d break? Eliot’s pride was no small thing, and it’s not like he was afraid of a little public indecency. Would he make him take it all the way?

The thought of Eliot trying to hide an orgasm in a room full of people made his cock twitch, and he almost choked as he quickly drained the rest of his drink.

He wanted to know if Eliot was hard, but the spell only made him aware of the body part that he touched, and he wasn’t done teasing him just yet. Slowly, he trailed the touch of a tongue down over his hip and traced the crease of his thigh, the magic keeping him in contact with Eliot’s skin even as he moved. He pressed warm lips against the inside of one thigh and then the other, parting those lips to brush teeth against the skin and relishing the flush that was spreading across Eliot’s face and neck. Just when he started to get close, he abandoned the area to kiss at his neck once more. Eliot exhaled sharply through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers ran through his hair, somehow making it look more artfully dishevelled.

Quentin didn’t miss it when Eliot started to stick closer to the bar, stretching to reach things on the counter behind him instead of stepping back for them, or the way he ducked just the tiniest bit for a moment, his hands below the bar and Quentin wondered if anyone else realised that he was adjusting himself. Yep, he was definitely hard. Dropping his empty glass onto the side table and sinking further into the couch, Quentin watched him hungrily, wanting nothing more than to taste the saltiness of his skin for himself, to take his cock in his mouth and taste how much he wanted him.

The spell reacted to that need before it became a coherent thought, before he could decide if it was time to stop the teasing and start the real fun, but the way Eliot’s whole body froze when warm lips wrapped around his cock was worth accidentally speeding up his intentions. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting, and he set the martini glass that he held down heavily to grip onto the edge of the bar with both hands. It was only a moment before he regained control of himself, redoubling his efforts into something almost frantic as he flipped the glass to coat the rim with sugar, but there was a furrow in his brow that wasn’t going away.

Slowly, he took Eliot deeper into his phantom mouth, sucking on him lightly as he drew back right to the tip. The fact that he was trapped under his clothes was no hindrance to the spell. He repeated that motion a few times, creating more suction each time before he licked a stripe up the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, lingering over the frenulum before taking the head into his mouth. Eliot’s hips jerked forward, chasing the feeling and _fuck,_ Quentin was really fucking hard.

Pulling a cushion out from behind him, he settled it on his lap and then crossed his arms over it, hoping no one would think it weird that he was cuddling a cushion at a party. The people beside him were paying him no more attention than they had before. His skin was hot, his throat tight, and it took a significant amount of concentration to keep his breathing even. It was a good thing that the spell was so responsive, that all he had to do was think the faintest thought of trailing his tongue down to trace over Eliot’s balls before that’s exactly what Eliot felt.

He teased back up to the base of his cock before heading back down again, licking along Eliot’s perineum and back to slip between his cheeks, and he watched Eliot gasp as he rolled his tongue over his opening, quickly clearing his throat to cover himself. Quentin didn’t let up, pressing his tongue more firmly until the tip of it pushed just inside, and Eliot’s hand shook as he topped a glass up with soda.

How much longer would he be able to keep this up for? Quentin was starting to feel too worked up himself to let this go on much longer, let alone how Eliot must feel. He let up for a moment when he saw a knife in Eliot’s hand, but as soon as he’d sliced the lime and put the knife down he returned his mouth to Eliot’s cock, taking him in deep, and his hand tightened involuntarily around the lime, squeezing the juice uselessly onto the bench. He stood frozen, his throat working silently for a few seconds before he squeezed some more of the fresh juice into the shaker, giving it a cursory mix before pouring it through the strainer.

“Thank you, and goodnight,” he said loudly enough for Quentin to hear him from half the room away. Wiping his hands on a tea towel, he tossed it onto the bar and bowed at the hip with an unsteady flourish, and then rolled his eyes at the protests of the people still waiting. “Bar’s still open; you’ll figure it out.” Finally, he raised his eyes to meet Quentin’s from across the room, and his were burning so hot that Quentin was on his feet even before he jerked his head for him to follow him.

They met halfway across the crowd, Eliot’s fingers twisting around his tightly and his other hand grabbing onto his arm, and when Quentin swirled a tongue around the head of his cock he stumbled against him. Quentin reached across him, grabbing his waist to steady him and Eliot laughed breathlessly against his neck. “Fuck, Q.”

His body thrummed with the need to turn his head just an inch, to grab Eliot’s head in both hands and kiss him with all of the desperation that he felt, but he knew that once they started they wouldn’t be able to stop. Groaning with want, he pulled away but kept an iron grip on Eliot’s hand, dragging him toward the stairs but Eliot pushed him past them and into the hallway, rushing past the kitchen and turning the corner so they were out of sight of the party.

Eliot’s mouth closed over his frantically, his kiss hot and needy and everything that Quentin felt, and he made sure to hold onto enough presence of mind to keep up the spell. It wasn’t so hard, not when his mind was already full of touching and tasting. He buried his hands in Eliot’s hair just like he’d wanted to, kissing him back deeply, their tongues sliding together as Quentin swallowed Eliot’s desperate moan and wondered just how long he’d held onto that. Eliot pushed Quentin’s body against the wall with his own, pressing up against him and Quentin gasped both from the feeling of Eliot’s hard cock against his hip and the friction against his own when he rutted against him.

“Did you…” Quentin panted when Eliot pulled back for air, only to falter when he dropped his head to kiss at his neck. “ _Oh._ Did… did you have as much fun being… the bartender as you – fuck – as you thought you would?” he said, grinning when he finally managed to get the words out, grunting when Eliot returned his mouth to his with almost bruising force.

“You’re insane,” Eliot laughed without pulling away, his lips moving against his with every word. “Jesus Christ, Quentin, your mouth feels so good on me. I can feel it, and – and you, at the same time,” he said, grinding harder against him. Slipping his hands under his shirt, he smoothed his hands over Quentin’s stomach before grabbing his sides and he shivered at the touch of his bare hands on his skin. Eliot whined loudly and Quentin kissed him hard, swallowing the sound as his hand dropped down to the small of Eliot’s back, pulling him closer against him. Desperate to see him really fall apart, Quentin thought about pulling his thick cock deep into his mouth, letting him slip into his throat and holding there until Eliot started to tremble from the sensations that he conjured. “I – I’m going to… _oooh._ ”

The fingers of one hand digging painfully into Quentin’s side, the other arm wrapping tightly around him, Eliot buried his face against his neck, thrusting against him harder, once, twice, his whole body shuddering. Quentin’s fingers were still twisted in Eliot’s hair and he held him close as the tension slowly started to seep out of him. Eliot’s breath was hot against his neck, his hands warm against his bare skin underneath his shirt, and he was only more turned on by the fact that Eliot had come in his pants because of him. Whispering the incantation to cease the spell, he felt Eliot relax against him that little bit more when it stopped, pressing his own lazy kiss along his neck and it was nice that Eliot wanted to be affectionate post-orgasm but he was still _really fucking worked up_.

Eliot’s arm dropped from around his waist, his hand pausing at the top of his jeans to slowly slip the button free, and maybe he wasn’t just being affectionate after all. His hand slipped into his underwear and Quentin threw his head back against the wall, pleasure and relief spiking through him when Eliot’s hand wrapped around his hard cock and pulled it free from the tight confines of his jeans. His hips jerked forward automatically under Eliot’s touch and he turned his head against Eliot’s, pressing his cheek against the side of his head. “We should… we should go upstairs,” he murmured, caught between wanting to take Eliot to the privacy of his room and not wanting to do anything to stop him from touching him.

“Mhmm.”

Eliot dropped to his knees, stroking him from base to tip and back again, and Quentin stared down at him with wide eyes as he knelt before him, staring at his cock as he jerked it off with slow, deliberate movements just inches from his eyes. And his mouth. Quentin really wanted him to take his dick into his mouth. He was also really aware of the sound of the party that raged just around the corner. “Eliot?” he said hesitantly, not sure what he was asking for, needing everything at once.

Eliot’s only response was a distracted hum before he tightened his hand around the base of his cock, licking a stripe from the base to the tip before closing his lips around the head and sinking down slowly, so fucking slowly, and Quentin felt every muscle in him tighten. Eliot’s mouth was wet heat wrapped tightly around him and his hips jerked forward of their own accord before he could even think of holding himself back.

“Wait, wait,” he said, biting hard into his bottom lip when he saw Eliot looking up at him through his lashes, his mouth full and his eyes hungry. Voices and laughter carried from just around the corner and sure, there was nothing down this hallway except for a storeroom and the laundry but anyone who didn’t live in the Physical Kids cottage might not know that. It was one thing to get caught making out and grinding against each other, but the thought of someone coming across them with his cock in Eliot’s mouth just felt so much dirtier. It made goosebumps spread out across his skin, and he told himself it was from nerves and not excitement. “Someone might catch us,” he protested weakly.

Pulling back, Eliot pressed a trail of kisses along the side of his cock before sucking gently at the skin below his hipbone. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you started giving me a blowjob in the middle of the party I was hosting,” he said, his voice thick and Quentin wanted to say something funny or light-hearted or sarcastic or clever in response, but it was all he could do to swallow back his groan when Eliot’s tongue worked on and around him in earnest.

Without realising it, both of his hands found themselves in Eliot’s hair and he couldn’t help but thrust forward, chasing the high that he’d craved since the start of the night. His shoulders pressed against the wall while the rest of his body arched forward into Eliot’s touch, and a long, low moan escaped from his lips before he could catch it. “Eliot,” he groaned, and was rewarded when he increased the suction around his cock, working his tongue in circles around the head before massaging just underneath his glans. It hit him before he was ready for it, every muscle stiffening as white hot pleasure spiked through him, his body jerking as he thrust deeper into the warmth of his mouth, emptying himself over his eager tongue and down his throat.

His legs were trembling and he couldn’t be sure if they gave out or he went down willingly, but his thighs settled on either side of Eliot’s, his body caught between him and the wall which was great because he didn’t think he could hold himself upright just yet. His arms wrapped around him and Quentin couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that fell from his lips. “Fucking hell,” he said. He still didn’t know when he’d get used to the normalcy of magic, or the variety of ways they could make magic work for them.

He’d never have imagined this.

Eliot huffed a laugh of his own, his jaw rubbing affectionately along his cheek, and Quentin’s heart swelled with something more. _This_ was so much more than he ever could have imagined. Right then, he couldn’t care less about the possibility of any drunken party-goers stumbling across them, despite his softening cock still peeking out through the open fly of his jeans. “So…” he said, leaning into Eliot’s touch, “we can call the party a success, right?”

A low, satisfied sound came from the back of Eliot’s throat. “Pretty sure,” he mumbled against his skin, and he could feel the smile on his lips when he pressed them more firmly against his neck. “Despite your lack of willingness to share.”

Leaning back, Quentin tucked his hair behind his ears before pushing Eliot’s hair back, biting his lip as he failed to hold back his grin. “How about I help you clean up to make it up to you?” he asked, his fingers tracing along Eliot’s jaw.

Eliot probably could have made do with just a change of underwear, and they both knew that if they made it into the shower then there was no way they’d be rejoining the party. Quentin was relying fully on that fact when he leaned his body down against Eliot’s. Despite the tired seductiveness that he’d hoped to throw behind his blatant invitation, Eliot’s touch was tender as he cupped his cheek, and Quentin wouldn’t have had it any other way. “I think it’s the only way,” he said, his eyes alight with mischief before he pressed his soft lips to his.


End file.
